<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>stirner shatters (you are not property. you're not an object) by superbcandyangel</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27536161">stirner shatters (you are not property. you're not an object)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/superbcandyangel/pseuds/superbcandyangel'>superbcandyangel</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Realicide - Grej (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Canon Nonbinary Character, Canon Trans Character, Claustrophobia, Comfort, Crying, Cuddling &amp; Snuggling, Discussion of Boundaries, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hickeys, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, I guess you could read it as romantic if you really want to but like, Implied/Referenced Dubcon, Implied/Referenced Polyamory, Implied/referenced noncon, Minor Slurs, Past DubCon, communalism whump because they know what they did, darwinism tiny, egoism is lowkey a prick but we love him, if any of this goes against canon no it doesn't, ingsoc fuckin loves knitting, no ships we drown like men, past noncon, you think platonic relationships can't be affectionate and caring? huh?? do ya punk?</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 16:15:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,181</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27536161</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/superbcandyangel/pseuds/superbcandyangel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>had to watch a tedtalk for class about how maternal nurturing can be an epigenetic strengthener of heritable healthy stress responses and decided darwinist is secretly very tactile and comforting</p><p>also communalism would annex my organs for those who need them more and tbh I would let them</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Darwinism &amp; Communalism, Egoism &amp; Communalism</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>stirner shatters (you are not property. you're not an object)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>realicide 3 dropped in the middle of writing this and I refuse to change anything shut up and take the hurt/comfort headcanon ya fuckin queerbait</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was late when Communalism returned, making a beeline for the bathroom and not bothering to close the door. Egoism didn't think much of it. He'd woken up to the sound of the front door closing, but that was nothing new — he was a light sleeper, always had been. It wasn't until he heard a piercing crash that he thought it worth his full attention.</p><p>Egoism groaned and fumbled at his bedside table for his glasses. No chance of drifting back to sleep now. He racked his brain for everything in the bathroom that could feasibly be broken, hoping desperately they wouldn't have to get a new sink. They were clumsy, he knew that, but this was really getting out of hand.</p><p>He stared at the ceiling for a moment, weighing the merits of staying in bed. Was this something he needed to investigate? The warmth he'd accumulated said no. Curiosity got the better of him, though, despite himself, and he swung his legs out from his haven of blankets. IngSoc would ordinarily have gotten there by now, but he hadn't heard him. Strange.</p><p>His own door clicked shut. The house was oddly quiet as he made his way down the hall. Being the wee hours of the morning, he supposed it should be. He didn't trust that. He rounded the corner to face the bathroom.</p><p>Communalism sat surrounded by the shattered remains of his Stirner bust, sniffling and trying to gather the pieces. They were shaking. Their eyes were red, and puffy, and they were trembling on the bathroom floor.</p><p>"We're– we're sorry, we don't know–"</p><p>"Don't, um. Don't worry about it." He could replace it later. "Would you like to, er, talk? About it? Whatever's troubling you?"</p><p>Great. Excellent. He'd never been good at this, this wasn't him. He couldn't do the sappy touchy-feely nonsense like they could, like they needed, he couldn't give that to them. But he supposed he could listen. In the interest of egoistic union, and all parties performing at their best, he would provide the services he was capable of. Perhaps prevent further destruction of his belongings.</p><p>He steadied his voice. "Here, I'll clear this away. Sit. <i>Breathe</i>."</p><p>When he came back with a dustpan and broom, he found them lodged under the sink. He supposed it must have been the only area free of ceramic shards. They were hugging their knees to their chest, toes pointed to brace on the balls of their feet.</p><p>Their whole body heaved an unsteady sigh. "We're really sorry."</p><p>"I know."</p><p>Egoism picked up one of the bigger pieces, thumbing over the jagged edge. It was porous, rough, its curved surface chipped near a corner he presumed was the point of impact. He briefly considered repairing it himself. The idea was quickly discarded, as were the remnants of the bust, as he accepted that it had been effectively demolished by the tile floor. Into the bin it went.</p><p>He sat down opposite them, rolling his shoulders back against the bathtub. They moved to give him space. Their knees were bouncing compulsively, which was quite an accomplishment considering their position.</p><p>"If you wish to keep shaking like a leaf, by all means keep your heels up." Communalism winced at his tone. Snarky. Egoism grimaced, and did his best to soften. "Putting your feet flat on the ground helps. One fewer reasons for your heart to race."</p><p>They lowered their heels to the floor. It was hesitant, but they relaxed into it after a moment. Relaxed being a relative term, of course; their breathing was heavy, and erratic. Their face was so flushed he could hardly make out their freckles. There was a slight tremble to their lower lip, a warning.</p><p>"Please don't hate us."</p><p>"I don't. Not for this, anyway." They shrank from his words, and he offered an apologetic smile. "It's a <i>thing</i>. Things can be replaced. Anyway, you're very nearly sounding like you believe in personal property."</p><p>"We don't know what we believe anymore."</p><p>Hearing that sent a chill through his body. This was not good, not good at all for him. An ideology in flux was not at its full strength, and if they were to ultimately confront the Realists he could not allow a vulnerability like this. He nodded, though, brow knit together. "Did something happen?"</p><p>It was a long time before they spoke. "We're not really sure."</p><p>"But something's upset you regardless." They didn't respond. "Well I can't force you to talk to me. I'd advise it; I think it would help, but it's not up to me. That's your choice to make."</p><p>Tears formed at the corners of their eyes, and they took a few gasps of air before their face contorted into something like a smile. Almost a laugh, disbelieving. They stared blankly ahead at the spot the Stirner bust had fallen, glassy eyed. They weren't looking at him; he wasn't sure they were entirely aware he was still watching them.</p><p>Communalism's face fell, then, and they shook their head as if to clear it. "No," they murmured, and again, "no, <i>no</i>."</p><p>"No? It's not your choice whether or not you'll talk to me?" The corner of his mouth twitched.</p><p>"No, it– it is, just–" narrowing their eyes, they gave a thin smile. Quietly, so quietly, "It's wrong to resent her."</p><p>Egoism cocked his head, and they gnawed their lip and continued, "Our partner. One of them. She, um," they pulled their collar down til it strained at their neck. Red, dark hickeys peppered their clavicle. They looked fresh. "She gave us these."</p><p>"And you didn't want them?"</p><p>"It's.. complicated. We want her to be happy. It makes her happy." They shifted uncomfortably. "It hurt."</p><p>"They're not for everyone."</p><p>"Everything is for everyone," came the instinctual response, the collective company line, as it were. They halted, and their face grew redder. Their brow furrowed.</p><p>Egoism tried and failed to catch their gaze. "That's not what I meant. You don't have to accept these things, certainly not in a romantic partnership."</p><p>"If it's good for the collective, we shouldn't withhold anything."</p><p>"Communalism–" he paused, head just barely shaking. He closed his eyes, and took a breath– "Just because property ownership isn't real does not mean you're obligated to let people violate you."</p><p>They had raised to meet his eyes when he glanced back at them, blinking away tears and flinching at their own action. Their head tipped back until it met the sink basin with a soft thunk. An uneven sigh; their eyes darted away. They reiterated, "We shouldn't keep anything from anyone else. It's selfish. It's wrong."</p><p>The way their voice broke made Egoism's heart sink. Nauseating. It landed somewhere near his liver, he supposed, though he could've sworn it nudged his pelvic bone to press harder to the unyielding floor. It seemed to press back, determined to pierce through the flesh between the two. He felt heavy, and empty.</p><p>"You are not property. You're not an object."</p><p>He pulled his knees closer into his chest, licked his lips, pursed them. "Look, I'm not going to argue with you over ideology, especially not now. We're far enough removed that it wouldn't <i>go</i> anywhere. But if you're struggling this much to reconcile yours with what you feel was wrong, in your gut? If you're trying to convince yourself you're not just wrong but <i>shameful</i> for feeling upset that someone treated you this way? It's hurting you. It's a lie. I won't let you lie to yourself."</p><p>"But we're supposed to help everyone!! It's not our decision what can and can't be shared, and if someone wants something that we can give them, we believe that– that.."</p><p>"What? That your body isn't yours? This isn't– it's not about sharing, this is about you feeling safe. Being safe." He dug his nails into the tile grout, something, anything to ground him. Means to an end. "You're allowed to set boundaries, love. If nothing else, you're allowed to protect yourself."</p><p>They were quiet, arms wrapped tight around themselves. A bit too tightly, perhaps, thumbs rubbing the skin raw where they fidgeted, their chin tucked into their chest. Tense, like every muscle was straining to snap. A choked sob. Another.</p><p>Fuck.</p><p>He'd been keeping his voice low, it was well past midnight and it would decidedly not serve him well to wake the others, but this was almost a whisper. "You're okay. You're going to be okay."</p><p>"We know, just–" their words gave way to a heaving, wretched sound. They held themselves so tightly their whole body shook with the effort– "We just feel.. dirty."</p><p>"I'm sorry I can't alleviate that." And he was, genuinely. For purely selfish reasons, of course, but sorry nonetheless.</p><p>"We don't expect you to."</p><p>It was a levelheaded response from someone actively weeping. He paused. "If it helps, they will fade in time."</p><p>They nodded, still sniffling, still with tearful hiccups. Their hand came to their neck. Not to rest at their neck, mind you, to grasp at the side like they intended to dig the hickeys out of their flesh with their bare hands. Their brow was furrowed, their eyes shut, and they let their now closed fist slip off their skin. Egoism released a baited breath.</p><p>"And I trust that whomever you've chosen to associate with will listen if you express your discomfort."</p><p>"She will," they said, quietly.</p><p>"You're a good judge of character." It was an admission, or at least sounded like one. "And you feel guilty. You shouldn't."</p><p>Guilt wasn't real, of course, but that wasn't what they needed to hear in order to reach an optimal state to serve his interests. He wondered which distressed them more — that it happened, or the dissonance in their response to the matter — and might've asked if a presence in the hallway hadn't broken the silence.</p><p>"Hey degenerates, has anyone seen IngSoc? He was supposed to– oh."</p><p>Appearing in the doorway, his demeanor shifted, suddenly, gingerly kneeling beside them. He made himself smaller. Not a hard feat to accomplish, admittedly, next to Communalism, but effective nonetheless. His hands were raised, not quite outstretched, just enough to show he wasn't holding his knife. That he wasn't threatening.</p><p>Both were stunned silent; Communalism stopped crying, even, utterly distracted. Nonthreatening was an odd look on Darwinism. Somehow weirder was the implication that he cared.</p><p>He glanced between the two of them. "Anyone wanna explain what's going on?"</p><p>"Communalism got upset and broke something."</p><p>"Sick."</p><p>"We didn't mean to."</p><p>"Less sick."</p><p>Another almost-laugh. Darwinism let his arm fall to prop himself on the floor.</p><p>"What did you break?" He still sounded impressed.</p><p>"Stirner."</p><p>"Damn. About time."</p><p>The Realicide house bathroom was not a large space. Egoism's own heart rate picked up as he found himself inching further into the corner where the bathtub met the wall. He needed out; he needed air. Darwinism seemed to sense his discomfort.</p><p>"It's getting fucking cramped in here. Look, I'll take over, you go look for IngSoc." His voice was low. It was a suggestion, not a command. Egoism went.</p><p>Darwinism was uncharacteristically gentle as he sat beside them. "I know Egoism isn't the most, uh–" he furrowed his brow– "tactile person. He means well, but sometimes talking it out can only go so far."</p><p>With this, he motioned for them to recline against him. They looked at him quizzically, scrubbing at their cheeks with the heel of their palm. "We're fine. He was right, we're sure he was, it just– it scared us. It was a lot. Overwhelming." They said it like they were telling themselves more than him. "Talking to him helped. We think it did, anyway."</p><p>"I never said it wasn't helpful. But it's  more detached, more theoretical," he said, and smirked. "Makes sense, I guess, for him."</p><p>They glared at him, crossing their arms across their chest. Darwinism averted his gaze. "Fine, fine. Truth be told, I'm speaking from experience. I had some trouble adjusting when we first started crashing here with Grej." He stiffened, and grimaced at even that. "<i>Bless his heart</i>, Egoism tried to talk to me about it, but talking didn't do jack shit for me. For a while it made things.. a lot worse, actually. Eventually Grej stopped panicking about the fact that a murderous lunatic was having a meltdown in his kitchen at three in the morning and figured out that I needed a hug."</p><p>Huh. Communalism knew they were a heavy sleeper, but that was news to them. They nestled cautiously into the space he offered them. He eased his posture, then, letting out a breath, and put his arm around them.</p><p>"Why are you doing this?" Their voice was quiet.</p><p>"What, that's not enough for you?" He wouldn't look them in the eyes, staring instead determinedly into the darkened hallway. Still, "Trauma without <i>comfort</i> makes you genetically weaker to stress. Read too much into it and you won't be alive to pass it on, queerbait."</p><p>Communalism nodded, slowly, and leaned into the touch. Darwinism took the opportunity to card his fingers through their hair. His hands were rough, but his touch was gentle. He was a little harsh about it, a little reserved, like he always was, but this was.. new. Good.</p><p><i>Queerbait</i>. There was no venom behind the term anymore. Not now. Not for them. They supposed there must have been, at some point, the two of them were at odds by design, but it sounded almost affectionate. Maybe it was just familiarity, they'd certainly heard it plenty. Maybe just a lack of active malice. That was a first, too.</p><p>He drew small circles on their upper arm with his thumb. They unfolded their arms and ran their hands down their thighs before coming to rest on their knees. This earned them a look of concern from Darwinism, but before he could say anything a plaintive meow came from the doorway.</p><p>Phantom padded her way over to them, bumping her head repeatedly against Communalism's leg. They giggled, and Darwinism glanced again down the hallway. It was odd; Egoism never left his door open, or even unlocked for that matter, but there it was ajar. He could've sworn it was closed when he walked by it.</p><p>She pressed into the hand resting on their arm, snapping him out of his head. A grin rose to his face against his best efforts. He felt Communalism's weight leave his side as they stretched to scoop Phantom into their lap. When they returned, their head tipped to rest on his shoulder.</p><p>"You're not going to ask us what happened?" It was louder, clearer, more assertive than he expected in the moment.</p><p>He cocked his own head to one side, an eyebrow raised. "Do you want to tell me what happened?"</p><p>"Not really."</p><p>"Then no."</p><p>Communalism mulled this over for a moment. Then, "Egoism asked us about it."</p><p>"We've been over this."</p><p>It was curt, harsher than he really intended. "Right," they replied.</p><p>Their hair was soft, the fluffy curls tousled between his fingers. Phantom was purring gently as he felt their full body rise and fall under his hands.</p><p>"You're breathing with your chest too much," he muttered.</p><p>"How else are we supposed to breathe?"</p><p>"Deeper than that. Lower– goddamnit–" Darwinism disentangled his hand from their hair and grabbed their wrist.</p><p>Communalism recoiled like he'd burned them, scrambling away. Phantom bolted out of the room. "Don't touch us. Please don't pleasepleaseplease," they said, and buried their head, covering their neck with their hands. Smart. Not great for him, though.</p><p>Frozen, he sighed quietly, and said, "I'm not gonna hurt you, queerbait, I was just going to show you where you should be breathing," his hand outstretched, waiting. "Communalism?" He resisted the urge to roll his eyes before saying, "Please?"</p><p>They looked at him like he'd grown another head. Despite this, they pursed their lips and offered their own hand. He treated it more gently this time, guiding them to press their hands flat against their back, thumbs hooked around their waist.</p><p>"Breathe there." His voice was soft, he made it soft for them. Neither broke eye contact. Communalism did as he asked — as he ordered, really — experimentally. After a moment, they stopped feeling their heartbeat in their throat.</p><p>They still felt sick, with guilt or panic or something, but the nausea was subsiding too. Darwinism returned to his seat beside them and slid his arm around their shoulders again. Carefully. They warmed into his touch now, pausing only a moment. It was nice. It felt nice.</p><p>"There, you've learned the superior way to breathe."</p><p>That sounded more like the Darwinism they knew. He was grinning, flashing his fangs, but there was an odd closeness between them now. Quiet, and comfortable.</p><p>The sound of the front door closing for a second time that night snapped them out of their easy silence. In his haste to stand, hearing this, Darwinism's head collided with the sink above them. He unleashed a string of profanity; Communalism chastised him and helped him to his feet. It was easy to forget his stature, masked as it was by his imposing presence, but they towered over him.</p><p>They filed out of the bathroom. Egoism was leaning idly against the wall as IngSoc toted several large bags in from outside. Communalism hurried into the kitchen to help him carry the groceries. Help, again, being a relative term; they wrestled the bags out of his hands with renewed determination.</p><p>Unreadable as always, IngSoc glanced around the room at each of them in turn. Communalism heaved the bags onto the counter. Darwinism had meandered into the kitchen to join them — not to <i>join them</i>, of course — but Egoism was the first to speak.</p><p>"You're in late."</p><p>"You didn't think the food appeared out of thin air, did you?" He reached into one bag and tossed a pack of ground beef to Darwinism, who tore open the plastic with frightening ease and began to eat. "I try to keep grocery runs discreet. It's not often that everyone is up and about at 4am. Darwinism, maybe. The two of you tend to stick to a schedule."</p><p>They chose not to ask how he'd determined that. "Thank you for doing this."</p><p>It was quiet; they were clearly exhausted. He held up a pair of knitting needles, gesturing stiffly. "Entirely for my own purposes, I assure you." Egoism smirked at that.</p><p>The conversation ended abruptly, as most did with him — he tucked a skein of yarn under his arm, pinning it against his hip, and made his way to the couch. Communalism didn't follow him. Instead, they watched with mild interest and moderate wonder as Darwinism scaled the drawers to plant himself on the kitchen counter.</p><p>"Midnight snack?"</p><p>"I'm just glad IngSoc's home, I was about to make kebabs out of the bluebirds that sing outside your window," he chuckled. Not as darkly as usual. A small smile crossed Communalism's face. "What are you looking at, dipshit?"</p><p>"Nothing, nothing," they murmured. "You called it home."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>keeping one consistent character pov is for the weak</p><p>if I made a post to just compile all the wips I'm never going to finish would y'all read it?</p><p>some of them slap and I want people to read them because I'm proud of my work but I've moved on from the idea or the fandom or I just can't add any more for whatever reason</p><p>let me know if that'd be something you'd read, some of the ones sitting in my drafts are long as fuck just fragmented</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>